Evening Encounter
by Zandalia
Summary: A night elf woman is spending her evening working an easy quest in Ashenvale, but it seems an encounter with an enemy blood elf has other ideas for the night. Oneshot, explicit, very rated M. F/M Smut. Enjoy. ;)


_More smut from the smutty author I am!_

_Warning: This is rated M for a reason. It's highly descriptive and explicit, so please read at your own discretion! This is to serve no other purpose than to be a slightly-romantic, highly-explicit encounter between two enemy elves. _

_Enjoy. ;)_

* * *

Nothing Layla could have done would've prevented the situation she was currently in. She never could've predicted this. Who would have guessed that she, a headstrong, deadly scout, would be trapped, _hiding_, with her life on the line?

As she silently peered out from her not-so-obscure hiding spot between a tree and a sparsely-blooming shrub, she held a hand to her mouth. She tried to quiet her breathing, to stay her frantic pulse to the point of where it was no longer pounding in her ears and drowning out sound, but the constant rush of adrenaline surging through her veins was preventing her from doing so. Her hands shook despite her desperate attempts to still them, and she flattened herself against the tree at her back, praying for some way out.

Her eyes were the only thing that moved as she watched her pursuer.

The lithe blood elf man stepped along silently through the dark, serene woods, his feet somehow making no sound against the forest floor despite how many thin twigs and dry, crackly leaves lay before him. Under all her fear, she felt respect toward him. Even she, an expert in stealth, didn't have the skill to walk unheard in such an environment like he could.

She couldn't see his face, for it was blanketed with a dark, thick, lightly-embroidered mask that tied at the base of where his skull met his neck. His eyes, though... His eyes, she could see. They set off an almost eerie, jade-tinted glow through the dim forest ambiance, the only actual source of light in the whole area save for the few effulgent botanical life forms that grew at the bases of the Ashenvale trees.

Layla tried to force her burning lungs to take silent breaths, despite how badly they yearned to gulp in the tortuously-cool, inviting air. She took note: if there's one thing that can ruin stealth, it's being short of breath.

This had all started at the southern end of Ashenvale forest. Layla had been minding her own business, keeping her distance from the Horde camps she knew existed within the misleadingly-quiet groves. Her sole intentions here in this forest were to visit Astranaar, but when she'd arrived within that tiny night elf encampment, almost immediately people began asking her for help. The people there weren't quick to trust just anyone, but she, a night elf just like them, was an exception. It seemed everyone had something that needed done, some item needing retrieval or some pest being killed. And she being the kind of person she was, didn't hesitate to help.

So out in the middle of the forest she had ventured, all because some woman had wanted a special herb that grew near the edges of the treeline. However, before Layla even managed to get a single item crossed off her list, a smooth, gleaming arrow had shot right past her face, to the point of where she had felt the air whoosh at its proximity.

Shocked, she'd whipped around, only to see an elf ranger clad in dark armor, a dark, concealing mask, and a fitting hood. The only thing that'd given his race away was the combination of his long, pale ears that pointed from slots out of his hood, and his alert, vivid green glowing eyes. He wore the symbolic Horde garb and was standing between two tall trees with another barbed arrow notched and withdrawn, the bowstring tight and ready to send the arrow flying, this time undoubtedly to hit and kill her.

Without further hesitation, Layla, with her heart in her throat, had turned tail and full-on sprinted through the dense forest in an attempt to evade the man, leaping over fallen trees and vaulting through thorny rose vines and ducking past low-hanging branches. Anything to throw off her hunter, she did it, but it seemed none of that had worked. She'd known the ranger probably had tracking senses, but he was probaby faster than her, so she ducked low, throwing herself into a nearby bush, and, now losing options and becoming desperate, she stifled her wheezing, gasping breaths by biting her sharp teeth into her gloved hand, which forced her to breathe through her nose.

But, within merely fifteen seconds, he had come into view, and thus began the stand-off between the two: she, hiding, willing him to lose interest and spare her, and he, prowling, eyes keen and ears perked for any sound that could reveal her location.

She was angry now, cursing at the world for its cruel timing. Why did this have to happen? Why was she now in this situation? She'd been careful not to venture too close to the Horde encampments, careful to stay within the boundaries of the peaceful night elves' home. She couldn't have prevented this, and that thought just pissed her off even more, at the same time as she felt fear creeping up her spine. She had never actually fought another person before. She'd had some training, but killing people wasn't her job. She was a rogue, a scout, yes, but she'd been a scout back in the most peaceful locations of her home city of Darnassus. Nothing ever happened there; no invasions, no trespassers... nothing. So she'd never had to really use her training against another being, save for possibly a dangerous beast that strayed too close or something of the like.

She watched the leather-clad man tiptoe through the leaf-strewn, fern-covered ground.

Through the strangely-peaceful, still forest air, his voice sounded suddenly, at which she startled. He could speak Common? His tone was deep, rich and liquid, and honestly, given the situation, 'twas quite terrifying.

"Where are you, night elf?" he half-hummed as he walked (more like glided) through the dense brush, back held rigid and straight while he kept his arrow still drawn. His legs and hips did all the work in directing him, almost like a strange, slow, enthralling dance.

Layla kept her hand at her mouth, refusing to move a muscle. She didn't recall having encountered Horde before in her adventures, and if perhaps she had, they certainly hadn't threatened her with the sharp end of an arrow. She was hiding for her life, and it was by far the most demeaning and terrifying thing she'd ever been forced to do.

"Come on out," the man spoke again, his voice sounding calm, warm, and inviting, if only falsely so. "I don't want to hurt you."

Layla stayed immobile. He wouldn't hurt her? Pfff. So what was with the arrow in his hands, drawn snug at the bow string, ready and waiting to kill her? He'd already shot at her once, and she'd been lucky enough that it'd missed. His words were hollow.

"Hm. I suppose I could track you," the ranger continued, staring off into the dark down the wrong direction, though he kept walking in small circles, pointing his weapon at anything that moved or made a sound. "But where would be the fun in that?"

Layla's heart was in her throat now. This was a game for him. A sick, fucked up game where he was her hunter and she was his prey. It wasn't just a Horde versus Alliance issue. This was his source of free entertainment.

Silence fell again as the blood elf paused to listen, to see if Layla was willing to comply. Obviously, she wasn't, and he got no response. About fifteen seconds of absolute stillness followed, and he - to her shock and momentary relief - retracted his arrow, stuck it back in the quiver at his shoulder, and lowered his bow to the side.

But then, what he said had her heart in her throat again. He wasn't looking at her, rather he stood with his narrow hips cocked slightly to the side, and he looked down at his gloved fingers, rubbing his index and thumb together as if inspecting something between them. "Or, I could just walk over to that bush you're hiding in and end all this."

Her breath faltered, her eyes widened, and her heart thudded in her ears as his glowing viridian gaze suddenly snapped right up to her own. She swore that if she could see through the mask covering most of his face, she would see a wry smile resting on his lips, the way his eyes, even from this distance, seemed to smile devilishly in their own way.

What should she do? Her mind whirled frantically. He was looking right at her, waiting for her to act, but she couldn't even move. He hadn't killed her yet, even though he easily could have. So what did that mean?

"Come here," he said lightly and clicked his tongue, cocking his head at her and watching her like what she was: his prey. "Don't make me retrieve you."

Layla's throat was dry, and when she finally tried to talk, her tongue felt thick and it stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"W-what d-do you want?" she finally got the words out, the question barely a whisper.

"I'm not entirely sure yet," he answered honestly, shrugging. "But I do want you to come here. I just want to talk."

Layla was shaking all over. "You're not going to kill me?" she asked him, this time her voice a little stronger but still quite quiet.

He chuckled. "If I actually wanted to kill you, you'd be dead with the first arrow I sent in your direction. Now please, come here."

Layla couldn't believe her own legs as they straightened from where she was crouching, out from the security of the bush. The blood elf merely kept his gaze on hers, seeming relaxed. She tried to take a step but then faltered, her fear not letting her move as her eyes widened, worry gripping at her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, voice just barely softer and more sincere than before, and she eyed him sideways.

"Then what do you want?" she questioned him.

He didn't reply, but his eyes crinkled a little at the edges, and she inferred that under that mask lay a smile.

She thought for a moment. She had regained just enough energy that she could probably run for another half mile, but where would she go? She hadn't paid any attention to where she was going when she had fled from her pursuer, and she had no idea where she was. For all she knew, she could run straight into a Horde base, and she knew that if that happened, this current situation would seem like a walk in the park.

Before she could decide what to do, he approached her instead, which she responded to by stepping back, flattening herself against the tree behind her. Her eyes were wide, but she forced herself to think logically. The man, despite how cryptic he was being, was correct on one point: he hadn't killed her yet, and it appeared he didn't plan to. Probably.

He walked forward until he was a mere ten feet from her, now in full view, though his face and head were covered with the masked hood.

Despite her distrust, Layla couldn't help but study him. His appearance, as much as she wanted to deny it, was causing her fear to ebb and her interest to peak. He was lean, tall, and imposing, taller than her by nearly a foot. Even with his leather armor covering most of him, she could tell he was all muscle, hence explaining how he was able to follow her in a dead sprint and not seem remotely as winded as she. He had broad shoulders and narrow hips, long legs and a proud stance.

The green glow of his eyes studied her for a moment before he suddenly reached up and removed his hood, letting it fall down onto his shoulders. His hair, which was somewhat long and swept back into a high fox-tail, was a rich, chocolate brown with all sorts of different flecks of reds and golds that shimmered, seeming silky in the faint forest light. A lot of it had fallen out of the tie and was draped around his masked face, sweeping behind his ears and down beside his brows.

Best of all, though, were his eyes, which from a far distance, she hadn't been able to see clearly. But now she _could_ see them, and by gods, they were... well, they were _perfect_. His long, delicate brows were sharp, angled and intense, tapering at fine, soft points to the sides of his face, and beneath them lay two deep viridian pools that watched her with interest. Layla got the impression that no matter how hard or mean of an expression he could attempt to make, his eyes couldn't possibly lose that tender, softness to them. They were big, serene, long-lashed and somehow very striking.

Suddenly Layla lost her fear and felt a desperate urge to pull his mask down and see the rest of him. His eyes were stunning, and her imagination began to get the best of her.

"Who are you?" she said before she could stop herself.

He didn't answer her. His beautiful eyes studied her curiously for a moment, flicking between her stare, as he was obviously intrigued with her sudden confidence.

Finally, he spoke up, taking two steps closer. "You can run really fast, you know that?"

The statement caught her off-guard for a moment, but she quickly recovered. "Well if someone tries to kill me with a damned arrow, I'll sure as hell run fast," she snapped.

His brows raised, eyes dancing with what she could tell was a smile. "I wasn't trying to kill you."

"Then what was with all the arrows?" she squeaked.

"Scare tactic. You were getting close to my camp. I shot a warning shot, but then you turned around and looked at me instead of running immediately, and I got curious. So I followed you."

She huffed. "Couldn't you have just said, 'Hey, go away,' instead of your stupid scare tactic?" She was becoming frustrated, and even with the interest she felt toward this man, she wanted to get back to Astranaar.

"Well, you got your wish," she mumbled, not at all afraid anymore and getting a bit snippy. "And I'm leaving."

She turned to go, and he took a few swift steps up to her and placed his broad hand on her arm.

"Wait," he said almost urgently, and she jumped at the contact and reeled back around, staring up at him. He seemed even taller now, now that he was a mere foot away, and she had to crane her neck up to meet his eyes.

"What now?" she asked, though her voice was too quiet for her liking, not at all confident as it'd been five seconds ago.

His liquid, glowing gaze held her, and his voice was potent, "I'm sorry I scared you."

She blinked, partially from the way he'd just spoken to her and partially from what he'd said. A sincere apology? Where did that come from?

"I..." she stared at him. "Th-thanks."

"I'm going to be honest," he said, his tone still rich and low, "I followed you here because once I actually saw you, I immediately regretted scaring you off. I only wish I could have introduced myself on... better terms."

Layla put her hands on her hips. "Okay, first of all," she said, "You saying all this while still wearing that mask isn't very convincing."

He began chuckling, and immediately reached up behind the base of his neck and worked to untie the band. He pulled the cloth away, revealing a sight to which it was all Layla could do to keep from swooning on the spot.

Her heart was fluttering and flipping erratically. He was overwhelmingly attractive, and she immediately felt her ears, cheeks, neck, and even the more taboo places begin to tingle and blush. His jaw was perfect, sharp, angled, and smooth, tapering at a strong-yet-tender chin. He had full lips, defined and soft, though kind of rough-looking due to a scar that rested on the corner of his mouth. His nose was straight and pointed, giving her the impression of an almost wolf-like appearance. And still, it all led back to his perfect eyes.

He cocked his head at her, a smile gracing his lips, and she felt so embarrassed; he could clearly tell the effect he was having on her, and it appeared he was enjoying seeing her squirm.

"What is your name?" she tried to recover by asking him a mundane question.

"Rion," he responded.

"Oh," she fidgeted. She'd completely forgotten what she was doing and her mind was blank. Wait, didn't she tell him she was going to leave? Well... That wasn't going to happen now, was it...

Rion ran his tongue over his lower lip, a corner of his mouth still holding his smirk. "Might I ask yours?"

"I'm uh..." she tried to think. She'd forgotten her own name! What the hell! She blinked a few times, stuttering a second, and she subconsciously began running her fingers down her long blue braid that fell over her shoulder. She fumbled a bit and then finally found her voice. "L-Layla," she said, "Yep, that's my name. Layla."

His smirk widened into a real grin, and Layla had half a mind to begin fanning herself off at how much he was affecting her. She couldn't handle this.

"Layla," Rion said her name in such a way that had her cheeks and ears darkening another shade. He continued, his voice deep and almost provocative in nature, "Do you have something you need to do this evening?"

"Not that I know of," she said quietly.

His lips curled slightly and he stepped closer. "Would you _like_ to have something to do this evening?" he asked, practically purring at her.

"I..." her mouth stayed parted, a little dazed. Was he... Was he offering what she thought he was offering?

He waited for a response, but when he saw he probably wouldn't get one, he took a step closer so that he was just inches from her. He reached out and ran his fingers delicately along her braid, and her heart fluttered at the proximity of his hand to her skin.

Rion brought his face close to her own, his lips less than an inch from her ear. "Come to my camp," he purred.

Her breath hitched and she felt a heady, raw desire build up within her. It'd been a while since she'd been with a man, and never had it been like_ this_. Should she do it? She had no idea.

Did she want to, though? Hell. Yes.

"Where is your camp?" she managed to ask, not trying to hide the eagerness that rose in her voice.

He looked extremely pleased and a bit excited, and his soft-yet-striking eyes flicked between hers. "Not far from here," he said to her. "So..." He looked surprised at the fact that she had accepted his offer, "You'll come back with me?"

She nodded with a growing smirk, which he returned, and he then grasped her hand, tugging her along at a quick pace through the dusky forest. He led her through the thick trees only about a hundred yards until they came upon a tiny, cleared-out area surrounded by dense trees. She saw a bedroll, remnants of a fire pit, and a lot of bags stacked to the side.

She didn't get another single second to inspect the camp, though, because seconds after they reached it, Rion tugged hard on her arm, then caught her by the waist, propping her up against a thick tree and violently attacking her lips with his own in an assault so intense that it pulled from all her other senses, causing her to see stars and her ears to buzz.

Straight to the good stuff, it seemed.

She let out a moan as his tongue darted into her mouth, his teeth catching her lips, and all the while his hands held her firmly against the tree. She grasped at him desperately, gripping his armor tightly and urging him to press himself against her further, her breathing quickening and heart pounding in her chest. His lips left hers and traveled down, suckling at her neck and causing her to shiver with need and desire. His hands ran down her waist, and he then wrapped his arms around her, hoisting her up and carrying her over to his bedroll, all the while still capturing her lips with eager, wanton kisses.

He set her down on the bedroll and shed his armor quickly, leaving him in just a tunic and leather trousers before he promptly returned to her, his lips claiming hers. She lay beneath him as he pinned her there under the length of his body, pressing hard muscle against soft curves. Again he turned his attention to the delicate skin on her neck, his lips brushing along the sensitive areas of her collarbone and then traveling downward. His hot breath against her exposed skin had her squirming and arching into him, and she mewled, running her fingers through his hair and inadvertently unraveling the tie out of it, letting the chocolate locks drape over his shoulders and neck.

"Oh!" she cried out softly when, through the cloth of her shirt, his hot breath honed in over one of her breasts, his lips enclosing around an erect bud. Pleasure sizzled through her, rocketing through every nerve and resonating deep inside her, and she felt an empty ache down below, throbbing in a desperate need only the man before her could fulfill.

Rion's hands grappled with the buttons on her shirt for a moment, but out of impatience, he simply tore the two pieces apart, popping all the buttons off and leaving her bare. Immediately he returned, hot lips latching onto one round breast, tongue swirling around the rosy nipple and suckling as his other hand caressed and kneaded her other one. He switched sides, tongue running over the skin in between as he massaged and fondled both. He let out a heady sigh and a few low rumbles of appreciation every once in a while as he kept all his attention on her breasts, which she, in response, continued to arch into his mouth with tantalizing moans of approval.

She began pulling at his shirt as well, desperate to see as much of this gorgeous man as possible, and he obliged her wishes by removing his tunic and tossing it to the side, then leaned back in and kissed her erotically, moulding the hard muscle of his stomach against her slight frame. She felt him grind his hips to meet hers and felt his thick arousal pressing hard against her apex through their clothes, and she let out a gasp and he a rough, carnal groan.

His hands went down to her trousers and he pulled them off with ease, his eyes glazing over lustfully as he took in every inch of her exposed body, running his hands over her delicate, soft skin and cupping and squeezing her breasts. He began working kisses down her stomach, laving his tongue over her navel and then down across one side of her hips. She shuddered at the sensation, his hot, sensuous lips working their magic over the hypersensitive skin, edging closer and closer to where she ached for his contact.

"Please," she whimpered as he worked kisses around both of her inner thighs, running his tongue just along the outsides of her swelling arousal. He was teasing her, playful even now, and she begged him for contact. "Please," she pleaded again, her voice faint as she ran her fingers through his outrageously-silky head of hair. She heard him chuckle warmly at her desirous begging, and then she suddenly gasped and bucked her hips as she felt his supple lips close down around her sensitive nub.

"Please - oh, Rion!" her voice raised an octave, reducing her to a breathy, whimpering mess, completely at the mercy of his expert tongue. He suckled and licked, twirling his tongue and sending lavish pleasure into her core. She writhed against him and felt her already-slick folds become hotter and drenched as he licked, and he worked one finger into her entrance, then another, pulsing in and out and coaxing cries of pure pleasure from her lips.

"By the gods, you're so wet," he murmured approvingly, his voice a liquid purr, and he returned his lips to hers with enthusiasm, mixing her arousal with their intense kisses, his tongue working its way deep into her mouth, swirling with her own tongue.

Layla ran her hands along his lean, rippling stomach and down to his trousers, over the growing bulge and across both of his muscular legs. She untied his belt and attempted to pull the trousers off. He sat up and allowed her to remove them, letting them fall down at his knees where he finished the job by kicking them off.

She took in the sight of his engorged member, eyes widening a little in both desire at his impressive size and anticipation of what it'd feel like, and she ran her hands down from his chest to his hips, the let her fingers encircle him. She heard him groan quietly and felt his arousal twitch in her fingers, and she smiled, then leaned in close and flicked her tongue out, catching the tip. His breath hitched and she saw his stomach flex in restraint as she did it again, and she then wrapped her lips around the head, swirling her tongue around the tip and enjoying his earthy taste.

She began to pump him into her mouth rhythmically, and Rion let out a groaning hiss through his teeth, stringing out quiet streams of Thalassian words, anywhere between curses to praises all rolled into one strangely-sexy sounding phrase.

"Sweet spirits, woman!" he grunted as he returned to Common language, breath hitching once while she ran her tongue up and down his rock-hard shaft.

A few more seconds and he couldn't help it, and he reached down and placed one hand at the base of her jaw, curling his fingers into her hair and pulling her up to kiss him deeply. He laid her onto her back and positioned himself at her entrance, though he didn't enter her yet, and she began whimpering.

He ran his tongue over her breasts and suckled each nipple, his beautiful eyes catching hers as he did so, watching her writhe in pleasure at his touch. He worked his way up until he kissed just beneath her slender ear, then spoke a quiet murmur.

"Tell me what you want," his voice itself had her squirming, and she could feel his erection pulsing against her arousal, coaxing her.

Rion wanted her to beg, to ask for it, and by gods she was willing.

She whimpered. "I w-want you."

His lips closed down against the delicate skin on her neck for a moment, and she indulged in his sensuous kissing, the sensation somehow causing her to become even more aroused than before.

He spoke again. "You want me to... what?"

"I want you to..." she breathed, gasping as he flicked his tongue along the tip of her long, ultra-sensitive ear before going back down, kissing the base of her jaw. "Please," she begged, "Please, I n-need..."

"Say it, Layla," he coaxed, his breathing heavy and barely controlled. "Say what you need me to do." He ground his hard bulge down against her sensitive apex, and she gasped, bucking against him. The need she felt for him to fill her nearly overrode every thought in her head.

"Say it."

"F-fuck me," she pleaded helplessly, and a growl rose from his chest.

"What's that?" he purred. "Speak up, I didn't hear you."

"Fuck me," she cried louder this time, and she heard his breathing speed up. "I want you to fuck me," she begged, _"Please."_

He cut her off by violently claiming her lips with his own, at the same time spearing her with as much of him as she could take. She gasped, moaning into his mouth as he groaned into hers.

"Fuck, Layla..." he growled, his sharp teeth biting down onto her lower lip. A cry of pleasure mixed with subtle pain rose from her lips as he began to rock his hips into her. He immediately started off at a generous pace, his hips thrusting hard down against hers, the only sounds in the forest being their cries of pleasure and the hot smacking of skin-against-skin.

After only a minute, Layla was seeing stars. She'd grown accustomed to him quickly and now every thrust he made was an intoxicating level of pleasure fizzling through her nerves, resonating through her center and sending jolts all the way into her fingers and toes. This man, this beautiful _enemy _of a man, was entangled with her in a passionate, carnal embrace, and it was the most exhilarating experience she'd ever had.

He buried his face in her neck, his pace a perfect rhythm as he thrust into her at an intense speed. She bucked her hips to meet his and repositioned her legs, wanting to take in all of him, and he let out a hot, heady groan against her neck as he finally was able to sink into her entirely, filling her beyond anything she'd ever had before.

She cried out and gripped both of her hands into the soft bedroll at her sides, fingers curling and knuckles turning white from her pleasure as he pounded into her fiercely.

She felt both of his hands grip her waist, and suddenly Rion had flipped them both over so that she was straddling him and he was laying stretched out beneath her.

Layla, panting heavily, stole a moment to admire the little hills and valleys of his muscular chest and stomach, his smooth skin that'd gathered a thin layer of moisture at his exertion, and dragging her fingertips over the light, soft patch of hair on his chest that traveled in a thin line down the center of his torso, over his abs and straight down to his pulsing arousal.

Her eyes flicked up to his to see that he was admiring her too with those molten, smoldering eyes, his big hands placed just beneath her breasts and fingers cupping the bottoms of the little round mounds.

She reached down and repositioned herself above him, sinking her tight wetness down onto his long shaft and taking in all of him that she could. She felt his length deep in her core, hitting hidden places within her she didn't think possible for a man to achieve, and she craned her head back, looking up toward the sky and letting out a wild cry of ecstasy. Her hips began to move of their own accord, sliding on top of him as he braced both broad, calloused hands on her hips, steadying her pace and keeping her balanced as she rode him.

His breathing was becoming erratic, as was hers, breaking at certain points when the pleasure proved too overwhelming and then escaping their lungs in passionate moans.

He reached one hand down and began massaging her special nub as she writhed above him, their hips meeting one another at an ever-quickening pace, and that was Layla's breaking point. She gripped both hands down at his broad, muscular chest as she felt every muscle inside her contract violently in response to his expert fingers and felt herself tighten around his thick cock as she rode out her orgasm, mouth held open in delirious pleasure.

Rion let out a loud groan at her climax as she tightened around him, his pace faltering at the intensity of the moment, but he kept his fingers working circles on her until she finally came down from her high.

Layla had only seconds to recover as Rion switched positions, rolling her over onto her front and positioning himself behind her, spreading her legs wide and planting both hands at the base of her hips, wrapping his long fingers around her curves. She felt him sink himself back into her, and she let out a shuddering moan at the sensation. He began pumping his hips, holding onto her tight and thrusting into her at a heightening speed.

Her pleasure built back up to the point of where each thrust he made was a new wave of pure bliss, speeding up and blocking out everything other than the feel of his hard length sinking into her tight shaft, filling her fully, completely, over and over.

She began crying out his name along with cries of pure pleasure, and he built up to a blinding speed, rocking into her, his hips smacking against her as he nearly drove her wild in ecstasy. He let out an animalistic growl and grasped one hand at her shoulder, wrapping the other at her waist, and he picked her up and sat back, holding her firmly against him as he continued to pound into her. One of his hands found its place at her sensitive button, his fingers eliciting perfect jolts of pleasure fizzling into her core at the same time as he sank himself into her. His hot breath at the back of her neck had her senses on overdrive, the sound of his perfect, quiet groans in her ear as they both neared their breaking point.

She felt herself begin to tighten again, arching against him, and he tightened his hold on her, keeping her snugly fit just where he wanted her. He was driving her wild, the way she could feel his hot, slick muscles flex against her skin and could sense how much power lay in his arms that held her tight. She whipped her head back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut and her breathing erratic, heart beating out of control.

He ran his tongue along where her neck met her shoulder, where the then latched his lips onto the skin and sucked hard. She felt his teeth catch her skin as he let out a rough growl that emanated from his chest, his grip on her flexing violently, and she knew he was just on the brink of his release.

"Now," she pleaded, panting and breathless, "Now, Rion."

He promptly increased his pace and thus increased her pleasure, and within just a few seconds she felt herself lock up in an absolute, shattering orgasm that seemed to rip at her from all directions, tightening her muscles and spasming through her violently. She let out a loud cry, shuddering against him as he finally too gave a broken moan from his own lips, thrusting deep and then releasing. She felt his cock pulse and jump within her, the heat of his seed filling her as he continued to hold her tight, his stomach against her back flexing with each pulse of his release.

"Oh gods," she breathed, going limp against him as he rode out his climax. He let his head fall and rested his jaw down onto her shoulder, his eyes closed as he panted, his chest rising and falling with each shuddering breath. "That was incredible," she murmured, lids heavy as she sat there, a feeling of relaxation and satisfaction washing over her.

She heard him chuckle warmly against her, his hands finally sliding along her skin and catching her waist to remove her from his lap. He lay her down on the bedroll, planting himself beside her, and reached one arm over her, locking his lips onto hers. They stayed in that embrace, panting, their lips working passionate kisses until he finally let out a satisfied sigh and pulled away. His eyelids were hazy and alluring as he stared down at her, stealing one more kiss before he relaxed down into the bedroll, his hand playing absentmindedly with her hair. She glanced over at him to see he was lying with his eyes closed, head leaned back against his pillow with a contented expression.

Never, she thought, would she have expected things to turn out the way they did. But, she wouldn't complain. This certainly beat herb gathering.

Smiling, she curled up against his bare, perfect body, rested her head in the crook of his arm, and let her own eyes close in fulfillment, drifting off to the sounds of the quiet, forested night.


End file.
